Starfox: The Series Reloaded
by You '-Formerly GME
Summary: Our aged hero, Fox McCloud, is abruptly influenced to dive into the safeguarded history of the Starfox team long after its disbanding. With each mystery more dangerous than the last, Fox may have to sacrifice everything to prove his innocence.
1. Episode I: Message Lost Part I

(So, it's late. I'm tired, bored, and I've downed over half a quart of pear juice. In about an hour, that pear juice is coming out whether I like it or not. So, let's see how much I can type after about three years of dormancy and before my toilet catches on fire with me on it.)

* * *

 _Starfox: The Series Reloaded_

Episode I

"Message Lost"

Onboard the Great Fox orbiting Corneria

Fox sat, twiddling his thumbs in the empty messhall. Staring at a blank screen, he awaited a mission from anyone who needed something. He wasn't much of a bounty hunter anymore, but more of a helper for hire. If someone needed something small transported fast or perhaps if someone needed a first responder to an accident in the asteroid belt, he was their man.

The old AC unit kicked on with a bang. Fox looked up and around, noticing the state of disrepair and the ship slightly falling apart. However, he began to zone out again, staring blankly into the black of space through a small porthole. Those same old thoughts came back to him. It had been about five years since the Anglar mess and a only few years before that was the Aparoid invasion. After that, everyone had their fair share of adventure and they were done. The team, once again, split up for what was the last time they would all be together.

It was that last mission. That dreadful mission. Their end came too close for comfort. The team had to break up after that for fear of tearing themselves apart. To continue meant ruining friendships that were best kept in good manner. Since then, no one had made contact with Fox. Almost as if he was dead to the world. The only difference being there were no flowers on his grave.

Suddenly, Fox felt a sense of weightlessness. He sat up in his chair and firmly planted his feet on the floor. As soon as his feet made contact, he went flying up out of his chair, hitting his head on the steel ceiling. The gravity generator had broken down. Fox took a deep breath preparing to yell, but he simply sighed in frustration.

"Dang... will I ever get a break?" he mumbled to himself.

He slowly pushed himself back down and with another push to the external wall, he was out the door and into the hallway. With a series of pushes, he eventually made it to the engineering deck. After floating through a series of electric generators and fuel cells, he reached the gravity generator.

Looking down into the internal workings of the machine, he noticed a fair few of the reaction wheels were lodged into the wiring below where they were supposed to be. Before he could think about how to fix it, his watch buzzed. His first call in many days. All that the message said was, "There is an urgent situation in the capitol."

With great haste and a little excitement, he made his way down to the hangar deck. He floated to his Arwing and grabbed onto the open cockpit to pull himself down into the pilot's seat. He faintly smiled as the Arwing slowly powered up with a quiet whine. This was his favorite part of every mission, launching.

The docking clamps retracted and the hanger doors opened. He had always loved the last version of the Arwing the most. Something about the sleek wings and the vibrant blue G-Defusers and the way they folded back. Fox strapped himself into the seat and sat back. The launch system finished charging and the wings folded behind the cockpit.

"And... here we go," Fox whispered to himself as his smile grew and he engaged the engines. The hydraulics let out a loud hiss. Fox was pushed back into his seat. He could feel the intense acceleration through every bone. This is what he lived for. The inertia dampeners activated and the ship began slowing down. As he came about to face Corneria, he looked at the Great Fox.

The once bright accent colours were now faded to a near blend with the white hull and the green and red wingtip light bulbs had broke. The red Starfox logo was scratched off. Fox was at least content that he sold the piece of junk the team was forced to use during the Anglar situation. With that money, he was able to buy pieces of the first one back from a scrapyard and have it rebuilt.

However, the condition of disrepair that the Great Fox was in greatly upset him. His smile faded to a less than content blank expression before he looked forward and sped to the capitol.

Fox set the G-Defusers to full as he took his Arwing into the atmosphere. Above the clouds, the sun's shine reflected off of the nose and the wings. Heat built up on the nose as it reentered the atmosphere. From behind, it could easily be mistaken for a phoenix, as if it were diving to catch its prey. Upon reaching the clouds, the water vapor cooled the spacecraft.

Shooting beneath the clouds, steam was blown off and condensed again. The sunlight made a glistening effect around the Arwing as Fox pulled the nose up and throttled down. The red tinge on the wings and nose from the reentry heat slowly faded. The spacecraft elegantly glided through the air as if it was a freshly sharpened blade cutting through paper.

* * *

As Fox landed his Arwing in the heart of the city, he noticed that all the rustle and bustle was normal. People living as they do, going about their day rushing in a blur. The landing skids touched down on the black asphalt of the pad and Fox shutdown the engines. He stepped out of the cockpit and stretched as he set foot on the ground. As he did, he heard someone walking up from behind him.

"Wow..." the burly man said. "I haven't seen one of those in ages. Especially in such amazing condition."

"Well, you either have an expensive car or an expensive apartment," Fox replied as he closed the cockpit.

"Under normal circumstances, yeah, but what you've got is a near one of a kind relic here." Fox turned around and looked at him. The man worked there.

"No joyriding. I'll be back within the hour," Fox said as he tossed the fox his key card. "Don't touch," he added as he began walking towards the stairs down to the lower levels. The man, jaw slightly hanging open in amazement, watched Fox walk away.

As Fox opened the door to the street, he checked his watch for the location of the incident, but he couldn't find anything other than what it initially said, "Incident in Corneria Capitol." He leaned against the door and began to track the location of where the transmission came from. Suddenly, there was a yell from a woman down the street.

Fox began running towards the yell. Eventually he reached a small alleyway between the buildings with a chain fence at the end. There were two backstreet kids in the process of mugging an old lady. "HEY! You two get away from her!" Fox yelled as he ran at them. One kid took off and the other grabbed the old lady's groceries bag and ran as well. Fox bolted past the old lady and grabbed the kids by the collar.

"Now, I don't supposed you two have a good explanation for mugging an old lady do you?" Fox asked. The kids looked at each other and back at Fox. "How many little old ladies are you gonna have to rob before you get what you want? Go apologize and give back the bag." They looked at each other again and whispered to each other. Both spoke.

"Actually, we were looking for you."

"Wait, what?" Fox replied inquisitively.

"You're Fox McCloud, right?" Fox hesitated for a moment and then nodded. The kids eyes lit up.

"Why... were you looking for me?"

"We need your help and we knew you wouldn't help us if we didn't get your attention. We don't have any money, mister," the kids begged. Fox let them go and crossed his arms. He closed his eyes and thought. "Please, mister, we have a friend that needs help and we think you're the only one who can help him!"

"Time. How long will helping your friend take?" Fox asked. The kids looked at each other.

"Um... we don't know. He has nightmares every night and freaks out whenever the TV turns on. Sometimes when we play Gunslingers, he-!"

"Quiet! I need to think," Fox ordered. Once again he closed his eyes and began to think. Clear thoughts had become difficult for Fox over the past five years. He has just... struggled to keep them apart. It's been a long five years.

"Young man?" the old lady called. "I think you ought to go help _your_ friend," the lady continued. Fox turned around slowly and looked at her with a confused expression.

"You ought to help _your_ friend," she emphasized. "Also, can I have my bag back?"

"Oh, oh yeah. Sure." Fox blinked a few times and got the bag for her.

* * *

After walking for a solid two hours, Fox and the kids reached a series of rowhouses on the far outskirts of the capital. The kids lead Fox to the second house in the series and stepped up to the door.

"So, what does this friend look like?" asked Fox.

"We think you better see for yourself," the kids replied. One unlocked the door with a key card and the other slowly turned the knob. "Uncle Fal, we're home."

"Uncle Fal...?" Fox thought as he entered the house. Small kitchen and barstools to the immediate left and a living room with a couch on the back wall and a TV parallel to it. The man sitting in the direct middle of the couch was that of broken mural art glass. Faded reds, faded blues, and now some grey. The man stared blankly at the black screen of the TV, hardly noticing the kids entering.

Falco was a husk, not of a man, but of a living creature. Fox was almost speechless. He closed the door behind him and slowly made his way to the couch, taking in every detail of Falco's demeanor. Specifically, the lack of. Fox took a seat next to Falco.

"Falco?" said Fox. There was an awkwardly long pause before Falco drew a long breath.

"I need to go back." Fox leaned in slightly. "I need to go back, Fox."

"Back where?" Falco looked at him.

"Venom."

After a few minutes of silence and awkward staring, Falco looked forward again. "I understand."

"No, Falco, it's not like that, but I can't take you there. It's a restricted zone now. It has been for five years," explained Fox. Falco slowly sat up and hung his head down. He took a deep breath. Fox could see how loosely his clothes fit him. He was literally wasting away.

"I need to go back because... I was involved in a 'special operation' at the same time we were pushing back the Anglar forces," said Falco.

"W-what do you mean 'involved in a special operation'?" asked Fox as his eyes widened. Falco looked up at him.

"I can't explain much here. You have to take me back, I beg you," said Falco. Fox looked down for a moment and thought before looking back at Falco.

"Let's go."

* * *

With the gravity generator fixed, Fox and Falco walked into the bridge of the Great Fox, Falco slightly lagging behind Fox. Falco looked around in awe. "Man Fox, you've done a great job fixing up this thing. It looks amazing," said Falco.

"Well, apparently, the junkyard guy gave me a 'deal', but I still think I payed too much for scrap metal," said Fox as he took his post at the navigation console and began punching in maneuver nodes. "Money has always been tight, but I manage to get by."

"Who's Money? I'd like to meet her," said Falco with a short laugh following Fox to the console. Fox chuckled.

"Me too," quietly replied Fox. Falco looked at Fox inquisitively.

"Fox, don't tell me you never met anybody," Falco said in a sarcastic awe. Fox abruptly walked over to the helm controls at the front of the bridge. Falco smirked slightly. "Guess you're still sensitive about it. I won't pry," he added.

"No. Don't mind me. I'm just setting up a prograde burn to break our orbit," said Fox nearly emotionless. "You may want to take a seat. She hasn't moved in a long time."

Falco took his seat on the captain's chair while Fox pulled up a small metal stool to the controls. The Great Fox slowly pointed its nose forward until it was parallel with Corneria and facing the direction of its orbit. The sound of the liquid fuel being injected through the nuclear reactor gave a quiet hum and Fox and Falco were gently pushed back by the slow acceleration.

Fox increased the throttle as the ship slowly got underway. Falco looked at him. "Wouldn't it be faster to use a gate to Eladard and then just slingshot to Venom?" asked Falco. Fox looked back at him.

"We're not going to Venom just yet. We're going to Aquas to meet someone who can help us get to Venom," explained Fox. "Getting a ship this large in and out of a quarantined zone won't be easy, but with some help, we'll make it," he added, causing to Falco shift in his seat. The engines slowly increased in power and the Great Fox slowly accelerated to escape from the orbit of Corneria.

"Adjusting for interplanetary travel," Fox announced as he changed the navigation presets.

* * *

The Great Fox's engines shut off after successfully entering into a high orbit over Aquas. Fox prepared his Arwing for launch. "I'll go down there by myself and see what I can find," he said.

"By yourself?" asked Falco as he looked up from his seat. Fox began walking for the bridge door.

"Well, I don't see you flying an Arwing, especially mine. While I'm gone, just rest. You could use a few hours of sleep," he said as he opened the door. "Also, don't forget to eat once in a while. The kitchen's all yours," he added, leaving. A few minutes later, Falco heard the Arwing launch with an echoed hiss.

Just like that, it was quiet again. Only the quiet sound of the fuel cells working every minute or so. The once bright lights, were dimmed to conserve power and limit fuel usage. Falco figured some food would do him good. He eventually made his way down to the messhall, made himself a cup of coffee and grabbed a small plain doughnut.

As he walked his way back up to the bridge, he walked past the team's old quarters. Feeling curious, he checked out his old room. The door slid open and a foul stench came out, it hadn't been cleaned since he left. The clothes he left behind didn't help any. Bearing the stench through the taste of his coffee, he stepped in to have a look.

The pictures he left behind were gone along with a patch he left behind. Thinking for a moment, he stepped out and checked Fox's room just left of his. He opened the door and, immediately, something fell off a hangar on the door. The room was a mess. Falco pushed open the door a little more and saw that the thing that fell was a jacket.

Falco bent down and picked up the jacket. Noticing it was an old flight jacket, he looked at the name patch, and it was Fox's. He finished his doughnut and put his coffee down in order to carefully hang up the jacket. Picking up his coffee, he stepped into the room. He saw lots of old pictures littering Fox's desk and walls. There was a picture that was framed and rested on the corner of the desk. Falco picked it up.

It was of the one formal picture that the team got taken. No Starfox logo and no weapons. Just Slippy, Falco, Fox, Krystal, and Peppy and a simple grey background. Nothing super fancy, just the old Starfox team. Falco sighed and put the picture back. With another sip of his coffee, he left the room and continued to the bridge.

* * *

Fox flew over the endless oceans of Aquas, not looking for a landmass, but a plastic beach of sorts. The sun was setting. Eventually, he found a tiny, pink painted, faux island. It was just large enough to land and walk around a bit, of which, he did. He lowered the throttle and slowly landed on the soft ground, his Arwing sinking slightly.

After stepping out of the cockpit and onto the rather unstable ground made of trash and some concrete, he walked over to the edge of the island on a little peninsula. There was a little metal hatch on the edge of the island that could only be seen up close. He stepped onto it and he was dropped down into a nicely lit glass box, which was also stained pink. After a few seconds or so, a female voice came through a hidden speaker.

"Please secure your belongings and account for all your children. Your descent will begin shortly."

Fox chuckled. The elevator unhooked from the walls and began lowering deeper into the ground. It skipped a few times before it started running smoothly and speeding up. He could see nothing but an old rusted shaft until he passed by the sea bed. The shaft ended and opened up into a massive cavern filled with a whole city. The city was lit up brightly.

Suspended only by thick wires, the elevator eventually descended behind an intentional rock formation, concealing it from the rest of the city. The elevator began rattling again as it came to a slow stop inside an old building on the outside of the city. One of the glass walls opened outward like a door and a warm lamp, hanging from the ceiling, lit up the narrow concrete hallway with a metal door.

Fox exited the shaft and left the glass door ajar. He walked down the hallway and reached the door at the end. He pushed down the door handle and it opened with a loud squeak. It opened to a small carved tunnel just big enough for one person at a time. Fox reached the end of the tunnel and stepped out into a backstreet alleyway. A fixed steel ladder was directly right of the hole in the wall.

After the four story climb, Fox struggled to pull himself onto the roof of the building. He took a minute to catch his breath before looking up. Another four story ladder that lead to the balcony of an old tower. Fox sighed and took a deep breath before starting the next climb. Eventually, he reached the top of the ladder and with a big huff, pulled himself up onto the small balcony.

In the center of the balcony was a small control tower type room. However, the windows had been covered with blankets and tape, blocking most of the dim light coming from the room. One of the blankets had a small faded Starfox logo on it. Fox went around the right side and found another solid metal door. He looked for a handle, but found that there was not one to be used.

He brought his hand up and knocked lightly. A minute passed and he knocked again, this time a little harder. He heard a whisper come from the inside, but he couldn't understand what it was. So, he knocked again and the door slowly glided open. There was a figure sitting in the middle of the room, facing Fox. It was round and plump.

"I said 'Come in.'" Slippy said quietly. In the dim lighting made by a few candles, Fox could see Slippy hadn't aged well. His face was scrunched up from his wrinkles and his eyes looked tired. "How can I help you, stranger?"


	2. Episode I: Message Lost Part II

_Starfox: The Series Reloaded_

Episode I

"Message Lost Part II"

Slippy stared blankly at the doorway Fox stood in. Fox looked at him in awe.

"Slippy, is that you?" asked Fox. Slippy's expression didn't change.

"Fox... I thought I made it clear to you that I'm done with Starfox," Slippy replied. Fox quietly stepped to the left of the doorway and Slippy continued looking forward.

"I didn't come here to recruit you for Starfox. I need your help," said Fox. Slippy sighed.

"When I say Starfox, I mean I'm done with anything space or tech related. I'm just so sick of all the fighting and destruction," he replied.

"Falco needs our help. He needs us to lean on right now," begged Fox. Slippy clenched his fists.

"It's... not my problem and it's not yours either," said Slippy. "Sometimes, you gotta just ignore other people's problems because you'll never be able to solve them all. People will always think of more problems," he added. Fox squinted in disappointment.

"Did all those years fighting teach you nothing? We have to be there for our team," Fox replied angrily. Slippy snapped.

"Fighting for what?! If you're so smart, just tell me this, who were the good guys?!" he yelled as he pointed at the doorway. Fox noticed this.

"Slip... I'm over here." Fox calmly stated. Slippy's anger quickly faded and he looked in the direction Fox was in, his eyes blankly staring. "You're blind, aren't you?" asked Fox. Slippy hesitated.

"I have been for a few months now..." he replied.

"Look Slip, just do this for me and I won't ask you for another favor again. Hate me all you want, but we need to help Falco," said Fox. Slippy thought for a minute and sighed.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked.

"I need you to build a device to make the Great Fox undetectable."

* * *

Falco sat silently in the bridge on the captain's chair, pondering. He was zoned out looking into space. The silence of the ship slowly became much too loud for him. Suddenly, he heard the hiss of the door opening behind him. He slowly stood up and turned around before he looked at Slippy.

He walked around the captain's chair and slowly walked up within inches in front of Slippy, his leather flight jacket squeaking. Slippy, hunched over, came up to his chest in height. Nothing but the sound of Falco's jacket quietly squeaking with each of his breaths could be heard.

"Hello, Falco," said Slippy, with his eyes open and blankly staring in front of him.

"Never thought I'd see you again," said Falco before crossing his arms. "But thank you for helping me," he painfully added. Slippy relaxed.

"No worries. Glad to help." happily said Slippy. Fox smiled slightly as he watched from the doorway.

* * *

Slippy worked in the engine room, feeling his way around the machines and Fox helped him with the tools.

"Numpad, please," Slippy requested and Fox handed it to him. Slippy felt around until he found the roughly textured wires and then he connected them to the numpad by soldering them to the back. After a minute or so of fiddling around with the machine, Slippy put his head down on it and sighed.

"Fox, what are we doing? Just think about it. Why are we going to Venom? What's over there that Falco just _needs_?" asked Slippy.

"I don't know, but it doesn't really matter. He's our friend. We have-" said Fox before Slippy interrupted.

"Do you _think_ that friends don't sell out? Since when has war ever made friends?" he tensely asked. Fox sighed and could only reply by shrugging. Slippy, still blind, figured that'd be his response.

"I think it would be best if we didn't think too far into it. For all we know-" Fox was once again interrupted. This time, by Falco entering the room.

"How's the machine thing going? Is it done yet?" Falco asked, anxiously smiling. Slippy raised his head and scowled.

"Yeah. It's done," he answered. Fox looked over at Falco and smiled.

"Isn't this great just to have us working together again?" he asked. Slippy coughed a little and Falco's smile faded slightly. Fox was confused. "What? It's just nice," he added, attempting to justify himself.

"Not a chance," Slippy chuckled. Falco laughed also.

Falco replied with a menacing tone saying "For sure, Slip," while he drew a small pistol. Fox looked at him and jumped at the sight. "That's right. Now, hands where I can see 'em," he added.

"F-Falco, there's no need for a gun. We're closer than bark on a tree, man," Fox said, putting his hands up. He began shaking. Slippy stood up with his back to Fox.

"Why are you so scared, Fox? It's just a gun. You've seen so many, you should be used to it by now."

"Leave him out of this. Let him go by himself and I'll get you to Venom," said Slippy, lacking much emotion. Falco tensed up, but he soon relaxed.

"Alright, now we're getting somewhere," he answered. Fox sharply looked at Slippy, very worried.

* * *

Falco locked Fox into the cockpit of his Arwing and stepped back from the launch pad. Before holstering the pistol, he pumped a few blasts into the engine of the Arwing, effectively disabling it. Fox banged his fists against the side of the cockpit, yelling. Falco walked accessed the nearby hangar controls.

He activated the catapult launcher, sending the Arwing flying out of the hangar, leaving Fox stranded. Falco watched the Arwing drift for a moment before he sighed. He returned to the bridge, where Slippy sat, calmly.

* * *

"Get this thing flying. Take me to Venom," Falco demanded.

"In case you're _also_ blind, I need to be able to see to fly," replied Slippy.

"Just tell me how." Falco became agitated.

"How the hell am I supposed to know where the buttons are?" Slippy replied causing Falco to snap and get face to face with Slippy.

"Don't mess with me, little green man. Tell me how to fly this ship!" Falco clenched his fists. Slippy took a deep breath and relaxed himself for a few moments.

"The first thing to do to begin a planetary transfer is to choose a planet of choice. After that, check to see where that planet is on the solar system map in comparison to our current location and trajectory. Then, you'd need to check the fuel reserves-."

"I _don't_ need a lecture. Just... just _simplify_ ," Falco gritted through his anger.

"It's not that simple, this is quite literally rocket science," replied Slippy. "Just chill. We'll take this one step at a time."

Falco reluctantly agreed.

* * *

Fox, still adrift, attempted to repair the engines from the cockpit, but to no avail. The damage was beyond his reach without his spacesuit. He sighed and sunk back down into his seat. Looking out at the Great Fox, it was no more than a tiny white spec.

The distress beacon quietly pinged behind him in combination with the rhythmic sound of the vents releasing recycled air into the cockpit every minute or so. There was a purple light that appeared behind the Great Fox; it was beginning its planetary escape burn.

Fox wondered who would now rescue him.

* * *

Hours of waiting for a response from anyone and nothing had come through. It was incredibly strange why not even Aquas' planetary guard was responding or even noticing him.

But suddenly the old radio crackled to life as someone tuned to the distress frequency. Fox quickly picked up the headset.

"So you've gotten yourself into trouble again and you need old Billy Boy to bail you out, eh Fox?" spoke a rather cocky man from the radio.

"Ah finally. I've been waiting for hours to be picked up, Bill," replied Fox. "But now that you've shown up, I could use your help."

"Help beyond bravely rescuing you from the cold depths of space, putting my crew in danger to save you, and yet you want more help?"

"God, you don't have to be such a dick about it. If you don't want to help me, fine," Fox replied, rather annoyed.

"Ahh you know I'm just messing with you. It's been too long since I've done that. I'll be rendezvousing with you in about a few minutes. Just sit tight," finished Bill before he put down his receiver, going silent.

Minutes later, a massive vessel blocked the two nearby stars, casting a dark shadow over Fox's Arwing. It was the same old carrier ship Bill was given years ago, the Enterprise. Now, it was his command.

* * *

Upon being pulled up out of his Arwing by a team of deck tenders, Fox found himself breathing fresh air once again. The team of three let him down only when they had cleared the damaged fighter. Bill, waiting to greet Fox, held two mugs of coffee, sipping on one and holding one out to Fox.

"Bill, we need to go fast. The Great Fox-."

"was stolen, right?" Bill asked rhetorically. "Don't worry, we tracked them as we entered the system to recover you. The helmsman has already put in a course to give chase," he added, handing Fox the mug of coffee, smiling.

"No, you don't understand. Falco took it and Slippy at gunpoint." Bill froze, slowly lowering his own mug, his smile flattening. He paused for a moment to think.

"A hostage makes things surely more complicated. Can't just vent the ship."

"Bill, this is Falco we're talking about here," Fox emphasized. Bill became annoyed and sighed deeply.

"Let's go talk somewhere else," he said before waving to the deck crew. "Ey, you boys get a mechanic to fix that fighter! I want to see my reflection in it!" he commanded.

* * *

The two entered the small officer lounge, the officers clearing out on Bill's command. He motioned towards a soft chair next to a porthole. "Have a seat," he told Fox. The two of them sat, porthole between their chairs. Bill turned his chair around to face Fox and then sat, sighing from the relief of standing.

"Look, Fox, Falco is a criminal at this point. He's not only committed grand theft auto, but he's also kidnapped someone. If my ship and crew is put in danger, I will defend them," he solemnly stated. "But that doesn't mean I won't do everything in my power in order to save everyone."

"Alright. I appreciate that," Fox replied. Bill now looked out into space, pondering.

An ominous feeling arose in the room. The hairs on Fox's neck began to rise also.

"Fox, what were you doing with both Slippy and Falco?" Bill coldly questioned. Fox squinted slightly.

"What are you getting at, Bill?"

"First, you picked up Falco. Then, you found Slippy. Why the sudden reunion?"

"Why the sudden change of tone?"

"Because I'm not only a Peacekeeping Captain, but I'm also your friend. You're not young anymore. You're older than your father was now. I'm worried that you're trying to get the team back together."

"I'm... not actually getting the team together. Some kids that knew Falco led me to him. He was in poor shape, so, I figured I'd help him out by taking him where he wanted to go. I thought that might help him get his life together," Fox explained.

"Where did he want to go?" asked Bill.

"He wanted to go to Venom. He said that he needed to go back. That's all he wanted." Bill's eyes widened.

"Venom? Fox, you know that whole planet is restricted. Do you know what Corneria would do to you if they knew you were helping someone to get there?" Bill asked quietly and intently.

"I know, but I couldn't just let Falco rot there. That's why I got Slippy to build a stealth device," Fox replied.

"I can't help but feel the same way, Fox. Look, if we stop him from reaching Venom, it's not a problem. I can still get you out of this." Before either could speak further, the intercom beeped and a voice spoke.

"Captain, we've lost trace of the Great Fox. We've been scanning to find it for the past few minutes, but there's nothing. Nothing at all," the second in command reported. Bill and Fox looked at each other.

"Disregard them, set a course for Venom and get us there ASAP," Bill commanded before standing.

"Affirmative, sir," the commander replied before the intercom shut off. Bill finished his mug and looked at Fox.

"Come with me to the bridge. We're going to solve this immediately." Bill became incredibly worried. He too was aging just as Fox was.

The Enterprise banked to starboard, away from the planet. After a few minutes of silence and stillness, the long and narrow ship jumped to faster than light speed with a dull bang.

* * *

Falco, with tremendous effort, managed to land the Great Fox on the Venom planet surface. He had landed on a tiny island surrounded by the sea. Its white hull stood out horribly compared to the dark red dirt, rock, and sand, the yellow-green acid ocean, and the thin yellow swirling clouds. The sky was black, but no stars could be seen. The glowing ocean was far too bright to allow that.

Minutes later, Falco dragged slippy out of the Great Fox at gunpoint, both of them wearing face masks and oxygen supply tanks. Breathing heavily, Falco pulled Slippy to the dead shoreline.

"Falco, what is your point-!"

"Shut up! Just be quiet!" Falco desperately demanded. "We aren't there yet." He eventually shoved Slippy in front of him, put his gun to Slippy's back, and told him to march. For Slippy, each step could have been his last, him being unable to see when fate would hit him. The next hour was of restless walking.

* * *

The Enterprise sat orbiting Venom, waiting for a sign of the Great Fox. Hours passed, but no sign. With no way to detect the Great Fox, it was more like a game of "spot the little white dot in space". Bill had spotter craft sent out to visually scour the region, but there was no luck finding them. If the Great Fox could be spotted visually, they would be able to track it, but it was highly unlikely any visual would be found.

"Captain, the patrolling fleet is still attempting to contact us," reported the communications officer.

"Signal that our comms system is down. Nothing else." Bill became further unsettled.

"Bill?" Fox called.

"Yeah?"

"What if we're doing this wrong?"

"There's not much else I can do here. You've put me in a tight spot," Bill replied as he leaned to the side of his captain's chair.

"No. Not that. What if..." Fox paused to think, putting his hand on his chin. "What if... what if they're right under our noses?"

"Define 'under our noses'. I've been keeping my crew on high alert since we left."

"What's easier to spot? White on a space background... or white on a red background?" Fox inquired. Bill thought for a moment before the realization hit him. His eyes widened.

"Commander, scramble the remaining spotter craft and send them to survey the surface of the planet. Get them down there now!" commanded Bill, keeping his eyes forward.

"Captain, a few of the patrol frigates have broken formation and are heading in our direction," again spoke the communications officer.

"Tactical, how long until they'll be on us?" asked Bill, turning to his right to look at the officer. The officer did the calculations quickly.

"At sub-light speed, about twenty-five minutes," he answered. Fox listened, unsure of what to do.

* * *

"Stop," commanded Falco. The two were on the dark shore of the island. Slippy stopped walking just at the edge of the acid. "You smell that? That's what we left behind here!" Falco yelled, becoming infuriated. "We were the reason this happened!"

"Falco, we were defending ourselves! What were we supposed to do, let the war continue?!"

"Oh yeah, so we just brush it off as wartime casualties?! You designed that bomb, you... you monster!" Falco became hysterical. Ripping off his face mask and his oxygen tank, he took a deep breath of the chemical filled air, the acid burning his nostrils, his lungs, and his mouth. He began to cough. "This planet wasn't a hellhole before _you_ happened!"

"Once again, they were the enemy that invaded us! Were we supposed to just sit back and die!?"

"You know, this planet used to be inhabitable before all this happened! It had life! Plants! Harmless animals!" he yelled before he aimed his gun at Slippy once again. "Smell it. Smell that _fresh_ air!" Falco ripped the face mask off of Slippy. He simply stood there, facing the glowing sea, with his back to Falco, attempting to hold in his coughing.

"I'm not the one to blame! Yes, I agree with you! I hate what we did here too, but you're doing this all wrong! If you want to avenge this planet, take it out on Corneria! At least then you'll be killing the right people!" Slippy snapped back. Falco snapped harder.

"That's becoming of you! Always dodging the blame as usual!"

* * *

"Captain, the spotters have located the Great Fox. It appears it was landed on the surface," reported the commander. Both Bill and Fox let out a short sigh of relief.

"Launch the dropships, secure the hostage and the ship," Bill commanded. "Time until the frigates are in visual range, Tactical?"

"Ten minutes, sir."

"Helm, keep that FTL drive warm. The second we have that crew back, get us out of here." The two bulky transports shot out of the two main hangars, immediately burning for Venom.

"Wait a second, what about the Great Fox?" asked Fox.

"How fast can you get to your Arwing?"

* * *

"It's always your fault! You don't think about what your creations can do!" Falco hysterically tilted back and forth between ir' and rational. Slippy turned around and got face to face with Falco.

"You're right, I didn't think about what I was doing! If only I had known it would destroy a whole god damn planet!" sarcastically yelled Slippy.

"Get the hell out of my face!" Falco pulled Slippy by the shoulders and threw him to the left. Slippy stumbled, almost falling, but yet able to regain his footing. Falco raised his left arm with the gun in hand and cocked it back.

Slippy, hearing the gun, jumped towards Falco, smacking the gun out of his hand. It fell to the ground with a dull thud. Both of them paused just a foot away from each other. Falco was certain he didn't need the gun. He charged forward, both arms extended to choke Slippy.

Dipping under the sound of Falco's leather jacket, Slippy elbowed him in the gut. Falco reeled from the hit and leaned over Slippy in agony. The elbow thrust was followed by a few strong punches to the side of Falco's abdomen.

Falco clenched his fists, attempting to pull Slippy down to the ground with him. Slippy regained his footing again and threw Falco down onto the ground, breathing heavily with his lungs burning. The sound of squeaking leather fell to the sandy ground with a hollow thump. Slippy took a step back before leading for a hard kick.

When he kicked, he only a jacket. Reeling from the force of his kick, his grounded foot slipped from underneath him, having him slam onto the surface. He gasped for air and attempted to roll over and get up, but a kick came in hard, nailing him in the side.

Falco, lacking his jacket, took advantage of Slippy on the ground in pain by silently picking up the gun. He then walked back over to Slippy and stood over him like a hawk. The glowing waves crashed against the shore, spilling closer towards the two of them.

"Slippy, we're not young anymore. There's no time for playing. You will die here with this planet." Falco raised the gun once again, his hand shaking.

"W-what are you getting from this?" Slippy grunted.

"I'm going to finish what Andross started. He was right about Corneria. They played us like damn fiddle."

"Let me join you," said Slippy. The sound of high powered engines came overhead and two transport dropships descended from the low clouds. The shined their spotlights onto the ground, focusing on Falco.

In anxious desperation, Falco swung the pistol towards the leading dropship. Before he could even turn his head towards the ship, a man opened fire from inside it. Multiple laser shots rang out.

He was struck every single time, jerking back with each hit as he stumbled backwards. He fired the pistol into the air as he clenched his fist. The firing stopped and Falco was barely standing. He lost his grip on the pistol and dropped it as he stumbled around and plunged face down into the acid sea.

Slippy listened, speechless. He listened as Falco slowly but surely sank down into the shallows. Footsteps came up behind him as everything began to fade away. He was picked up by the arms and rushed him back to the landed dropships.

* * *

Fox's radio sounded as he approached where the dropships had just landed.

"Fox, they got them both. Just make sure you get the Great Fox off of that planet. We will contact you when we're clear. Bill out." With a sigh of relief, Fox continued to the landing point. As he got there, the dropships had already taken off and landed.

Fox slowly brought his Arwing level with the hangar of the landed Great Fox and slowly began to dock.

* * *

"Captain, the frigates will be in range in one minute," reported the now worried tactical officer.

"Helm, keep your hand on that switch. Comms, ETA on the dropships?" asked Bill.

"They're just leaving the atmosphere, Captain. ETA is fifty seconds, sir."

"Tell the deck crew to prepare for two emergency landings. Get all hands on deck."

The dropships raced towards the Enterprise as it turned to face them head on with its hangars. Thick nets were erected halfway down the two main hangars while the fire control crew hastily readied their hoses.

The comms officer read off the distances from the dropships. "200 meters... 150... 100..." Bill's heart was racing. "50 meters." The dropships waited until the last moment to retrograde burn to slow down, nearly blackening the Enterprise's hull with burns.

They both smacked down inside the hangar, both catching the nets, and both screeching to a halt. "They're in, sir!"

"Lightspeed _now_ , Helmsman!"

The Enterprise barely had time to point its nose away from the planet before it jumped with a bang.


	3. Episode II: Conviction

(Please leave a review if you have the time.)

 _Starfox: The Series Reloaded_

Episode II

"Conviction"

Slippy sat in his quarters silently pondering. Rather than sit on the bed or the chair at the desk, he sat on the cold steel floor. It made him feel more "grounded". Even if it was just a ship and even the gravity was fake, it made him feel more connected not only to the vessel, but to his own mind.

Even with a lack of vision, he could easily picture how Falco's death happened. He thought to himself, doubting everything he had ever believed all over again. Once more, he returned to the question of "Who are the 'good guys' here?"

The sound of the florescent bulb lighting the room became evermore prevalent as his mind cleared. He had lived too long and lost too many friends to even try to pretend this was a nightmare. He had accepted what happened and that was that. Nothing more.

The memory of what Falco had said became just more taxing than the light bulb, not entirely stopping him from processing it, but not allowing him to think clearly of it either.

His mind then wandered to what he how easily he agreed with Falco amidst the chaotic fisticuffs between them. A new question quickly came to him: How much of that was his desperation? How much of that was himself?

Unable to answer the new and strange questions, he attempted to cloud his mind to forget them. However, this did not work either. His pondering and sorrow were there to stay.

* * *

The sound of patrol frigates flying overhead had slowly simmered down over the past hour. Fox listened in and waited for a moment where he could break cover and escape. The fleet knew something was on Venom, but didn't know what or where it was. The sound of the frigates had just gone completely. The time had arrived.

The Great Fox powered up and rose upwards, pushing past the dense sea of acid. Broaching the surface of the sea with a hasty speed. The glowing acid poured off of the hull of the vessel as the bridge armour panels retracted to expose the windows. Upon Fox activating the stealth system, the ship became undetectable to all except the naked eye.

Soon, the Great Fox had left the planet's atmosphere with no trouble. The fleet had no clue. A few hours later, as the Great Fox left the orbit of Venom, the Enterprise contacted him as promised.

* * *

In the high orbit of Corneria, the Enterprise and the Great Fox sailed in parallel with one another as Fox docked his Arwing inside the Enterprise. The magnetic struts connected to the hull of the fighter and locked it in place.

Fox hastily shut down the systems and exited his Arwing. Bill was already standing nearby, awaiting Fox with a dreadful look on his face. Fox saw him and a cold chill shot down his spine. He ran up to him and gripped his shoulders tightly.

"Where's Falco?" he asked, near to realizing. Bill choked, unable to speak to answer. Fox shook him. "Where is he?!" he yelled less in anger and more in sorrow. Bill answered in the only way he could: how he was trained to answer.

"At twenty 'o five hundred hours, Falco Lombardi was spotted ready, able, and willing to imminently end the life of the hostage, Slippy Toad. As by protocol, he was... eliminated as a target on first sight. The hostage was recovered safely, treated for his wounds, and given safe harbor in the passenger quarters of the Enterprise."

Those words made up the least professional report he had ever given purely due to his slowness and quietness.

Fox began to choke up as well, tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

"There was no body recovered due to the highly acidic nature of Venom's seas."

Only his face had become red and his eyes damp, his mind blue and his thoughts rampant. Fox let go of Bill, still standing solid, and fell onto his Arwing. With each great deep breath, he slammed his fist down on the hull. Not a cry nor whimper was made, only the thud of his fist concealing the sound of his wheezing.

Even being well versed in communication and social interaction, Bill lacked the ability to console Fox. The regret of rushing the process and giving the order to kill on sight gnawed at him ever so slowly.

* * *

Hours later, Fox and Slippy returned to the Great Fox. Fox noticed a simple yellow sticky note on the Helm console in the bridge.

"'A man can't travel the stars without proper supplies.' -Bill"

Fox, still deeply upset, simply balled up the note and threw it into a corner of the bridge. Slippy found his way to a chair at the rear of the bridge and sat quietly without a word. Fox looked back at him for a few moments before speaking.

"I guess I'll just drop you off at Aquas. We'll be there in a few hours if I start now." Slippy sat still for a minute, then spoke.

"Would you mind if I stayed here for a few weeks?" he asked.

"Sure. Make yourself at home. God knows this ship needs a mechanic other than me," Fox answered, trying to lighten the mood. Slippy was unimpressed.

* * *

Two days passed. Having received a call the prior day, Fox had traveled to Katina where a small group of planetary ambassadors needed quick transport to Fichina to resolve a border accident.

Katina, primarily being a desert planet, lacked water. However, the capitol city of the planet was full of lush green plants mixed with the sandstone architecture. Sandstorms were also minimal. It was quite the contrast compared to the rest of the population, living in poverty and lacking basic supplies. Fox brushed off the feeling of guilt and reminded himself who was paying the bill: The Fichinan government.

Fox looked up at the Great Fox, its white hull practically glistening in the sunlight. The ambassadors boarded the ship in a line through the hangar bay. There were a total of thirty, one for each province on Fichina. After the last diplomat boarded, Fox joined them. He attempted to push past the loads of people and lead them to a larger area for them to sit and wait.

As he passed them, he noticed that it was their excessive amount of luggage clogging the cramped corridors. They all carried black steel cases with large latches holding them shut tight. Fox found it incredibly odd how diplomats could carry such big and heavy cases with ease. However, it really wasn't his problem, so he attempted to not let it bother him.

Most gave him dirty looks and some rude gestures as he walked past, reminding him that he's still a mercenary. It took him almost a half hour to get them all into a waiting room and buckled into their seats. The room still smelled of cooking oil due to it having been the galley just the day before, but Fox didn't think the hot and sweaty diplomats minded.

After putting a few boxes of bottled water and doughnuts on the table in the center of the room, he spoke to them. "Alright. I'd like to thank you for your cooperation on working with me here. I know these aren't the best conditions to be in, but what's important is that I get you all to Fichina in a safe and timely manner. If something happens mid-flight, I'll be sure to let you know," he explained.

Some of the ambassadors nodded appreciatively while most of the others either scoffed or didn't respond. A few awkward moments passed before Fox nodded back and left the room, the door hissing to a shut behind him. He made his way to Slippy's quarters before heading to the bridge, knocking on the steel door.

"Hey, Slip?"

"I'm here," Slippy replied from inside the room.

"Um... I might need you to do a few things while we're on the trip, alright?"

"Uh, yeah sure."

"Alright." Fox paused. "You gonna be alright in there?"

"I'll be alright. It'll be alright." Fox waited for a few moments before slowly edging away from the door and walking away.

Minutes later, the Great Fox started up her engines and took off from Katina. The trip would be hasty, seeing as how the conflict needed to be resolved quickly and peacefully. Fox estimated it would be four hours to Fichina.

* * *

Onboard the Enterprise, still in dry dock in orbit of Cornera, Bill sat in his quarters, pondering the events of two days prior.

He found it incredibly odd how he hadn't been contacted by the admiralty yet. Surely the Venom patrol fleet would report what they witnessed. "Just what did they witness?" Bill asked himself. "Well, they never came within visual contact, but they would have registered the FTL jump. The only thing sent out to them was a signal reporting our comms system was down," he thought.

The dropships would have been too small to detect from outside visual range of the Enterprise. The Great Fox was never detected or visually seen despite the patrols. The best that they would be able to report would be that the Enterprise was on sensors for a few hours, frigates were sent to investigate when they received a signal for a damaged comm, and nothing was found.

However, his crew knew that they were at Venom and his officers knew he was hunting down a stolen vessel. If they were questioned, they would probably have those stories. Bill, not having reported it yet, would need to report it soon as to not look suspicious. "Perhaps," he thought. "Perhaps it was just a training exercise."

Bill, not being naive, figured it would be best to write a number of statements just in case he was questioned, sticking to his new story of the training exercise. There was just one problem with it. If there was an investigation, his story was at risk of being proven weary. "Why would he go to such extreme lengths to provide a full-real training exercise? Surely there was a third party involved," Bill attempted to question himself.

And that third party, if it existed, would be found even if it drained every ounce of energy in the Cornerian government. Military investigators were ruthless.

* * *

The Great Fox made large strides towards Fichina. Fortunately, the Katinan government was paying for fuel too. Fox was ready to get the ambassadors off of his ship. A few of them had caused no less than ten problems from vandalism to fistfights between themselves.

"And these are the people they're sending to resolve a border accident?" Fox asked himself. He guessed it was just a cultural thing. The Great Fox entered Fichina's realm of influence and began a slow retrograde burn.

The sensors console behind Fox pinged suddenly. He looked at it for a moment before looking back to his helm console, but the sensors console pinged again. Fox gave up and rolled his chair across the bridge. The sensors had picked up a Fichinan vessel on an intercept course with the Great Fox. He sighed. "Great. Now I have to transport diplomats _and_ act like one?" he mumbled.

* * *

Leaning over a tiny computer in the corner of the waiting room, five of the thirty ambassadors, the Commanders, were watching the approach of the vessel on the ship's sensors. They looked at each other and spoke for a moment before nodding to one another. One made an announcement to the rest.

"Comrades, it appears that we've been found out by the Fichinans. Gear up for boarding."

With the command, all thirty removed their diplomatic robes and opened their steel cases. They were filled with the individual's weapons, gear, a uniform, a week's ration of food, and as much ammunition as the case had spare room for.

* * *

He rolled to the communications station and hailed the vessel. "This is McCloud of the Great Fox, it appears you've taken an interest in me."

A few moments later and he got a response. "This is the Fichinan destroyer _Febel_ , what is your purpose?"

"I'm transporting 30 ambassadors from Katina to Fichina to, and I quote 'resolve a border accident.'"

" _Jeeesus_... Hold your position and don't try anything," the comms officer replied before closing the channel. He sounded rather annoyed at the thought of ambassadors. Fox became further displeased. The vessel began closing to visual range.

* * *

Preoccupied with the Fichinans, Fox failed to notice the hangar bay doors opening without his control. The ambassadors were now geared as tactical soldiers, clad in all matte black gear and ready for space travel.

The five Commanders, now designated by a single matte tan stripe on their shoulders peered out of the hangar bay, looking into a sea of stars with a tiny green dot in the distance: Fichina. The twenty-five unmarked marines stood in five columns, awaiting their individual Commanders.

One of the five used a small device on his wrist to watch as the destroyer closed distance while another used a high powered binocular to visually search for the vessel.

* * *

Before long, two more destroyers had joined with the first and the three flat and sleek vessels had closed to visual range. The new leading destroyer hailed.

"Great Fox, this is the Fichinan command destroyer _Albitten_ and I, Ross Barret, am the Admiral of this task force," said a strong voiced man whose voice practically boomed through the microphone.

"I'm Fox McCloud, Captain of this vessel you see before you. There seems to be somewhat of a problem regarding my passengers I hear. Perhaps you'd like to clear this up?"

"Captain, Fichina is not accepting nor expecting any ambassadors from foreign planets currently." This piqued Fox's interest.

* * *

"Two more ships have just joined with the first. Same class too. Bravo, try to get a look on them," said the Commander, Charlie, with the wrist device. The binocular Commander, Bravo, looked for a moment before spotted the three vessels.

"I have them on visual, Charlie," he reported as he zoomed in on the new leading ship. He could see the Admiral through the front bridge screen. "Looks like the lead ship's got an Admiral on board."

"This is why you don't put windows on your ships, people," Delta joked.

The leading Commander, Alpha, spoke to the marines. "We've got our target men. Board the leading vessel and bring it under our control. Remember, no survivors."

With the command given, the five took their places at the front of their lines, leading their men. Taking a sprinter's stance, they all readied their monopropellant space packs.

* * *

"Whoa hold on a second. There is no way that I just burned through half of my fuel to transport these no-good, blue-collar, union-mongering scumbags in less than five hours to respond to a border accident just to not get paid!" Fox had really worked himself into quite the huff again.

"You have your orders and I have mine. I'm sure that if you return to Katina, they will pay you for your time."

"That's incredibly strange because I was under the impression that it was true when I was told that I'd be paid by your government." The Admiral paused for a moment to take a deep breath.

"And were you given orders to return the ambassadors to Katina when they were finished resolving this problem?"

"None at all. I was told just to get them here in five hours or less, hence the fuel burning."

* * *

Bravo, still watching with the binocular reported "Distance from vessel, one-hundred kilometers at a steady rate of negative one-point-two kilometers per second." With that knowledge, Alpha signaled. He waited a moment... then he gave the order.

The lines of men sprinted across the hangar deck towards open space, jumping and activating their suits just before the edge of the hangar force-field. Accelerating using their packs, the men flew towards the leading ship.

* * *

"This is damn peculiar... Captain, I'm going to have to ask you to relinquish control of your vessel to the Fichinan government and-."

"Hey wait a second, this is a private venture vessel, you can't claim control of a civilian ship without a warrant," Fox returned to his younger and more nasally toned voice as a reaction to his agitation.

"If you refuse to turn your ship over, you will be charged with the same intent as the men you may be transporting: Inciting interplanetary war." Fox put his face in his hands, leaning on the table-like console.

"Inciting interplanetary war? Are you mad?"

"I'm afraid that's the case here. We must inspect your vessel before you can leave." From the other end, another voice spoke.

"Admiral, there are three reports of gunfire on decks four and seven," an officer reported before the channel closed. Fox hastily activated the intercom to Slippy.

"Slippy, I need you up here right now. We've got a serious problem on our hands," Fox commanded. A gruff, yet quiet, voice came through.

"I'll be there soon," he replied.

"Better make it fast," Fox said before cutting the channel. He attempted to reopen the channel to the destroyers and, before long, he was able to force a connection through.

* * *

"-... report on deck two?" commanded the Admiral.

"A marine unit has been dispatched to the location, but we've _just_ lost connection with all lower decks!" the man reported in great duress. Fox attempted to speak over the ship's internal sirens, but to no avail.

"Commander, do not let the vessel fall into enemy hands! Initiate the auto-destruct system!" the Admiral yelled. "Order our flanking destroyers to seize that freighter immediately!"

"Admiral, I've lost connection with all decks. It's all silent..." With the chilling words of the officer, the ship's sirens began to fade into the background as the bridge crew realized what they were supposed to do.

"Guards, man those hatches. All hands, ready sidearms." The Admiral's voice seemed to echo as the bridge crew responded to his command. He then drew his pistol and took cover behind the helm console with the ensign helmsman.

The officers removed themselves from their stations and took cover behind them, arms drawn. The remaining six marines took cover on opposite sides of the two doors on opposite sides of the bridge. The room then fell silent for many moments following.

The wall between the two doors at the back of the bridge exploded, debris and steel shrapnel catching many of the remaining crew. The marines were hit with laser bolts before they could even recover to train their guns on target.

The officers opened fire in the direction of the hole only to have the bridge doors blasted open, killing the tactical officer and Commander, and obscuring the remaining officers' view.

The men clad in black stepped forward, guns trained. The comms officer, opposite to the starboard side, jumped up screaming as he squeezed off two shots before being put down.

As did the security officer and the Captain.

The Admiral looked at the helmsman beside him. The young man was terrified, but met eyes with the Admiral all the same and gave a short quick nod. The Admiral jumped up, but the helmsman pushed him aside while firing at the infiltrators.

He was nailed before he could even empty the cartridge and dead before he hit the floor. The Admiral, now on the floor, slowly made his way to a crawling position only before he too was shot. The bridge was clear.

"Alpha, they've set the ship to self destruct. We've got two minutes!" reported Bravo.

"Delta, disable it if you can. If not, we need to begin evacuating immediately," commanded Alpha. Delta, putting down his rifle, sat down at the tactical console and got to work.

* * *

The two remaining destroyers closed in on the Great Fox, attempting to surround it. Fox instinctively fired up a retrograde burn away while keeping the bow pointed at the destroyers.

"Fichinan destroyers, cease your pursuit or I will be forced to open fire." he demanded over the channel. Nothing but static returned. The bridge doors opened behind him and Slippy came stumbling through. "Slippy, I need you to get down to the guns and get them working. We're in some trouble." Slippy fell onto a console and hung on tight.

"What do you mean they don't work!?" he exclaimed.

"They haven't worked since I got the ship back! It hasn't been a problem until now! I _refuse_ to let them take this ship!" Slippy took a deep breath.

"Fine! I'll do what I can!" he replied before feeling his way back to the doors and leaving. The sleek vessels slowly continued to close the distance.

* * *

Delta furiously typed on the console, attempting to override it. "Delta, estimate on time?" asked Alpha.

"I'm not sure, sir. It may be best to get ready for an evacuation. I will say if need be," he said plainly.

"We're not going without you. Get up-."

"Wait. Just a little more... and... I've got it," he interrupted. After the all clear, he sighed, the timer at just thirty-two seconds. Some of their marines watching applauded and cheered for a moment. "Let's continue our mission, sir." An air of relief and cheer came about the room.

"Well done, Delta. Bravo, take the sensors, Charlie, take the fire control console, Delta, take the tactical, and Echo..." Echo had already silently taken the helm console. "...don't anticipate my orders, but do pilot the ship. ...And for the rest of you!" Alpha addressed the mass of his marines in the bridge.

"Take your positions in engineering, main guns, and damage control. I know we're a little thin on numbers to run a destroyer, but we're also the best. Get to it!"

"Sir," said Charlie. "What are we to do about the freighter?"

* * *

The Great Fox continued to reverse away from the two destroyers, them being near point blank range at only twenty-nine kilometers away. The destroyers had yet to open fire, but they didn't need to. Once they had maneuvered inside of the Great Fox's turning circle, the fight would be over as Fox would never be able to get the guns back on target.

Slippy ran down the halls towards the firing compartment, knowing where all of the turns were by memorization. He came up to his quarters and stopped for a moment before running in, grabbing a mechanical device from his workbench, and continuing to feel his way around to the compartment.

Fox opened a ship wide comms channel.

"Slippy, you have to get those guns operational if we're going to even have a chance of doing this! They're closing in fast!"

Slippy felt his way to the doors, sliding from side to side as the ship jolted around. He flung the bulkhead doors open into a cramped room where two massive laser breeches were held in fixed positions and protected by railing and computing consoles.

Upon pulling open the back plate of the charging bulb access console from memory, steam poured out, releasing the pent-up hydraulic stress from the cooling rods.

The destroyers signaled for the Great Fox to surrender or be fired upon, but even with the lack of compliance, none of the three vessels had opened fire or had turned their guns yet.

Slippy fumbled with the device to connect cables from the fiber optic system previously connected to the back plate. "Fox, I'm going to drain the power from the shields to overcharge the guns!" he noted. The two destroyers split and began to encircle the Great Fox from both sides. Fox could now clearly see their individual guns with his own eyes.

The gun compartment quickly became a hot-box after Slippy had connected the device and released rest of the steam pressure. Pulling himself to the side of the room, he found the crank to start the generators. "Fox, they're ready!" he said as he slowly pulled back the crank, the lever creaking with each move.

Fox hesitated once he heard those words. The word "accomplice" came to mind. Unable to open a channel with the destroyers due to his being at the helm console, he simply paused. Moments passed before he came back to himself and jumped into action. He bolted to the fire control console on the other side of the bridge after targeting the destroyer off of the starboard bow.

He calibrated the guns and began to let them charge, using power from the rest of the ship to do so. The bridge lights flicked off and the room was then only lit by the small array of console lights along the walls. Fox pointed the bow of the Great Fox towards the destroyer now at 1 O'clock. Both destroyers rotated their guns, prepared for battle.

Rolling his chair over to the fire control console and sighted in on the vessel, he anxiously waited for the guns to slide onto the target. The destroyers opened up, their initial salvos missing by a mere two-hundred meters short. The bridge lit up with bright flashes of green tracer beams. Fox tapped his foot violently on the firing pedal as the bow hadn't reached the lead indicator for the target yet.

The destroyer began a forward burn, attempting to outrun the Great Fox's guns, but it was too far away to effectively do so. Fox slammed his foot on the pedal, firing the starboard gun and releasing its charge. Blinded by the white supercharged beam, Fox jerked his head away from the sights, attempting to cover his eyes. The sound of the charging bulbs bursting quickly deafened him with their explosions.

Green flashes once more filled the bridge, this time striking the Great Fox's bare hull, cutting straight through her midsection and rocking the ship. Like balloons, the gas in the compromised rooms quickly escaped with a loud bang that sounded through the ship's hull. Fox looked up to see the destroyer he had targeted was missing large sections of its bow and attempting to retreat from the battle.

He quickly rolled his chair back to the helm console and attempted to turn the bow back to port. The hulking ship, having lost fuel connection to some of its port-side maneuvering thrusters, wafted its nose towards the closing destroyer. The vessel, like the other, began burning its boosters forward in order to outrun the Great Fox's guns. It opened up with its own guns again.

The green lasers slammed into the side of the Great Fox, tearing out part of the rear booster and cutting a hole clean through the other side of the ship. The rear dorsal fin was severed along with the upper port-side wing being nearly disconnected. The ship whined as she was being torn apart, debris flinging off of her. Fox was steadfast as he redirected the fuel flow to the remaining working thrusters to keep output high.

He moved back to the fire control console and began to line up the shot. The reticle was lined up properly and he stomped on the pedal. The beam struck the destroyer, cutting through its tough shields, but not nailing a direct hit on its hull. The last of the charging bulbs popped, making the guns inoperable. Fox looked up to see the vessel still in working condition and now inside the turning circle of the Great Fox.

The destroyer took point to the side of the Great Fox, charging its weapons. From around the other side of the Great Fox, the leading destroyer revealed itself from behind the larger vessel. Its guns opened up on the other, penetrating its shields and cutting it into pieces down the center. Without a word or signal, it burned away on a course for the damaged destroyer that had retreated.

Fox leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath, his hands shaking. After a few minutes, he opened a ship-wide channel.

"Slip... you still there?"

Slippy sat up from the floor of the dark gun room. "Yeh. I'm here."

"We're gonna have to lay low for a bit and hope that we won't be hunted down by the Fichinians..."

Another few moments of silence passed.

"Fox?"

"Yeah?"

"If I wasn't blind... I'd be able to see outside... The room next to me is gone."


	4. Episode III: The Long Night

(Version 2. For those who have read this episode already, I changed only a few details that only tweak the plot. The changes are mostly at the end of the episode.)

 _Starfox: The Series Reloaded_

Episode 3

"The Long Night"

"'A training exercise'?" asked the angered prosecuting attorney.

"Yes. I wanted to put my crew through as real a near-combat situation as possible," replied Bill, before standing to address the three military judges. "Your honors, due to the secrecy and intent of the exercise, I saw it as necessary to keep even my first officer in the dark. This way, it could be a learning experience for all involved."

The center judge thought for a moment before speaking. "And what of the third-party which helped give that sense of realism? Surely they wouldn't appreciate having live-fire rounds shot at them."

"They were simply a small freighter I personally made contact with beforehand. As for the live-fire rounds, they were only used on an old robot janitor we had collecting dust, your honor," answered Bill. The prosecuting attorney stepped in.

"Your honors, if the robot was the so-called 'kidnapper', then who was the one that had been 'kidnapped'? It couldn't have been a member of the crew nor another robot. Therefore, it must have been one of that freighter's crew then. As far as I know, civilians nor civilian vessels are allowed on the surface of Venom as it is a restricted planet."

Before the judges could come to a conclusion, the door behind the three opened and a man handed the center judge a letter. The small room was filled with anticipation as he read it to himself. He soon set the letter down and picked up his gavel.

"As there are other more important things Captain Bill J. Gray must attend to, the meeting will be adjourned for the next week. An official time will be sent to all parties," he stated before banging the gavel down on his desk. Bill was the first to leave the room and was immediately joined by his first officer and helmsman, who were waiting outside the doors.

"Captain, we've been summoned by the admiralty to investigate a disturbance on Fichina," explained the first officer, stepping along side Bill's left as they walked.

"Us? Why us? We're not even stationed on a survey ship," pondered the helmsman. Bill's blank face gnarled into a scowl.

"Donald, what kind of disturbance was it?" Bill asked his first officer.

"Command was being a pain in the ass about telling me, but there were reports of laser-fire between a Cornerian freighter and three Fichinian destroyers. They want us to investigate the wreckage."

"That's one hell of a 'disturbance'," commented the helmsman.

"That's an understatement. Don, get everyone ready for takeoff. Jim, prepare the ship," commanded Bill as he took a faster pace and left the two behind. "I want to be ready to leave in forty-five minutes."

* * *

Night soon fell on the sandy blue planet of Kew, the last glimmers of the deep orange sunlight reflecting off of the Great Fox's white hull. The atmosphere was clear for the time being as the lack of much wind wasn't causing a blue sandstorm. Fox took a moment's rest from his welding of the rear booster to look out across the horizon.

There wasn't a single town nor settlement within one-hundred and fifty kilometers, and the quick darkening of the landscape reflected that as the shadows of the dunes became longer without resistance. The air was silent all but for the slight wind. Having himself a short sigh, he continued his work of attempting to seal the booster nozzle.

Slippy, having safely exited the gun compartment, was working on the electrics and the less mechanical systems of the ship. He had discovered that the overcharging of the lasers taxed the charging bulbs beyond containment when firing. "Replacing the bulbs," he mumbled to himself. "That's not going to be so fun."

Entering the atmosphere of a planet with a vessel damaged to such extent was not Fox's first option, however it would cover them for the night. He saw the benefit in a near thirty hour night and five hour day.

Fox recorded his musings as he repaired, attempting to prove his innocence to himself.

"The landing was rough, but at least we're safe... or at least for the next thirty hours," he mumbled to his recorder. "We can't take off until I get some more of these systems repaired. Just not enough thrust being generated. Something tells me I won't be able to get those guns working for a while. Something about bulb glass all over the deck."

He continued on for a good while until he had the curve of the bell nozzle **very** roughly matching that of the rest. "It isn't nickle, but it should hold," said Fox as he finished hammering the curve shape into it. Using the rugged hull, he pulled himself to the left, his harness holding him as its hooks scraped across a lip of rivets. With the sun going down, Fox used his flashlight to see which hole he could reenter the ship through.

Slippy slowly and thoughtfully reconnected wires which had been cut loose upon landing, knocking out all of the main bridge lighting. While attempting to do so, he shocked himself multiple times as he seemed to be lacking in the hand-eye coordination area. In order to properly get access to the wires and tubes, he had to make a pseudo-platform out of rather tall ladder and sheet metal which he was laying face up on.

All that was left was a single pair of wires to connect the whole grid to the aux generator. He had one wire in each hand which he slowly brought together using feeling. His pinkies touched, meaning he was close, and then his middle fingers touched, very nearly there now, and finally his index fingers and thumbs holding the wires came into contact.

And the bright main lights came on as he heard their dull wiring spring to life. He sighed in relief as he then attempted to make the physical bond stronger, but not before the bridge doors opened with Fox leisurely walking in. Time stopped for Slippy. His reactions, with or without his vision, were still sharp as a tack, however, this time it would cost him dearly.

For it was too late. Slippy's hands twitched, bringing an end to the wonderful connection they once held for but a moment. The room was once again dark in an instant.

"Jesus FFFFFFox! I just had it! I JUST had it! God, damn you! Damn it all to hell!" he exclaimed among other profanities.

* * *

"Sir, we've arrived at our waypoint," said the navigator at the rear of the bridge.

"I want a full scan of the area in an eighteen by eighteen kilometer grid. I don't want to miss anything," commanded Bill.

"We've already picked up a few large objects nearby, sir. It appears to be wreckage of a _whole_ Fichinan destroyer," reported the tactical officer to Bill's direct right. Bill's interest was piqued once again.

"A _whole_ Fichinan destroyer? Have we picked up the freighter's wreckage yet?" asked Bill.

"There appears to be some small foreign debris not matching that of a destroyer, and it's definitely not your typical Cornerian freighter."

"I need a bigger picture than this, Chief," Bill ordered to the tactical officer. "Commander Donald, scramble all scouts and send them out on Search Pattern Delta." Donald moved fast to call the pilots.

"Wait... yes. We've got another piece of the freighter's debris on scopes now," reported the Chief. Bill swiftly walked over to the tactical console and looked into the scope. The debris appeared to be a winglet of Cornerian construction, however, it could have been concluded that it was merely superficial damage.

"What happened here?" Bill asked himself before speaking to the Chief. "Keep at it. I want to know everything you find."

Within twenty minutes, the bulk of the scout force had launched and begun their search beyond Enterprise's sensor range. After having the scouts launch, Commander Donald retired for the night and handed his duty over to the Flight Chief, Osborne, who appeared on the bridge and took his place at the communications table to the rear of the captain.

"Captain, one of the scouts reports sighting wreckage of Fichinan origin... and it's separate from the one we found," Osborne reported. Bill turned around with a look of disbelief.

"And _still_ no wreckage from that freighter?" he asked.

"Nada, only thing out there seems to be more surprises."

Bill became so irate that he spoke loud enough where crew two decks below could hear him. "So what you're all telling me is that somehow a Cornerian freighter fought off three Fichinan destroyers, destroyed both, AND was STILL able to escape? That's bullshit! Get me answers."

He thought for a moment before turning to his intelligence officer, Senior Yeoman Harry, to the opposite of the tactical officer.

"Who gave us the tip off about this so called 'freighter'?" he asked. Harry searched the computer for a moment before replying.

"It was a... Cornerian luxury liner that was passing through here sometime before the conflict. The report goes as this: 'A passenger on the deck during the afternoon hours spotted a Cornerian freighter burning quite a lot of fuel to get to Fichina in a hurry. Hours later, we were passed by a wing of three Fichinan destroyers also burning quite a lot of fuel to intercept the freighter mentioned earlier.'"

"Where is that specific passenger right now?" asked Bill. Harry took almost no time to search before he replied.

"The liner docked at a land station on Fichina for refueling and passenger unloading and loading exactly two hours ago. The passenger had a ticket that _stopped_ at Fichina, but there's a good chance we can get a connection through to the liner to find out where she went," he reported.

"Get it done, Osborne, and as soon as you have it, I'll need to speak with her immediately. Meanwhile, Harry, keep me updated 'round the clock. Chief, expand our search. Now we will be comparing debris to _any_ and _all_ Cornerian vessels." Bill was becoming increasingly piqued as he had far more questions than answers.

* * *

Fox was back at repairing. This time, it was the compromised compartments that could easily be repaired, such as rooms that had only finger-sized holes between them and being pressurized. However, only after he had time to repair some of the holes on the main concourse leading to the hanger, Slippy came to him with another problem.

"So I've completed my rough diagnostic of the damage we took and we're lacking some major supplies for essential systems," said Slippy.

"Well, I don't see a shopping mall on this hemisphere of the planet, but I guess if we wait here long enough, we'll get _something_ eventually," Fox sarcastically replied. Slippy sighed and bit his tongue slightly.

"I... know a place that can supply us. It a little difficult to get to, but it's got everything we need and more."

"Ah yes, _the Garden of Eden_."

"Fox, listen to me here. It's an abandoned military base that had a cave in years back before the end of the war." Fox's eyes widened with his eyebrows and nose scrunching of disbelief.

"Do you have a better idea? Aaaanything?" Slippy prodded harshly. Fox eventually relented.

"Where is this 'abandoned base'?"

"It's only about ninety kilometers northwest of here, on the edge of the northern ice cap."

"How-," Fox hesitated."How do you know this?" he cautiously asked. Slippy paused, pondering if he should explain or not.

"When seconds matter, there's no need to explain semantics. If we find a more secure place other than some backwater planet, I'll explain, but we don't have time right now," Slippy explained, dodging the question and beginning to rush Fox along.

"Alright." Fox paused. "I'll go along with it. Just tell me how to get there."

With less than twenty-six hours before sunrise, Fox hopped into his Arwing with vigor. He looked at where he had just recently patched holes over the once damaged engine, remembering Falco. He controlled one of the few working things left on the ship from his Arwing, the hangar doors, which miraculously avoided damage during the fight.

The doors opened slowly, cyan light from the hangar flooding into the dark night. Noticing that the wind had picked up significantly, Fox prepared himself for trouble. Just then, the doors stopped, partially blocked by the steep dune and partially due to sand jamming the drive gears. "These ships certainly weren't meant for this," Fox grumbled to himself.

"Fox, I can't get the door to open any further, you'll have to made due," Slippy said over the radio. Fox grumbled louder with irritation.

"So that means no catapult launch... God..." he griped. Carefully, he activated the electromagnetic pads of the Arwing and had the docking clamps gradually slide apart. The clamps slipped and the right side of the Arwing jerked downwards, only being stopped by the padding. This caused the upper left G-Diffuser to bend at one foot down the length, effectively breaking it.

Fox began sweating even in the cold of the cockpit and desert night conditions. A few seconds later, the left clamp unhinged the Arwing, allowing it to float freely above the hangar floor. Looking up at a seemingly impossible challenge, he roughly measured his lifeline in the gap he had to get through. The wings folded back halfway behind the craft as if it was preparing for a catapult launch.

His old Aparoid Invasion Arwing was roughly 3.5 meters high when the G-Diffusers were folded back completely. "What's that opening, Slippy?" Slippy, who was on the left side of the hangar and in the control room, was best to make that measurement. Doing some quick calculations from some numbers the computer told him, he came up with an approximation.

"About 3.55 meters, Fox. That's _five_ centimeters of clearance."

Fox was no longer the young and cocky pilot he used to be. Much like Bill, he was far more cautious than he was confident. This didn't help him whatsoever. Almost begrudgingly, he inched the Arwing forward until the nose was centimeters away from the steep ramp. Much like his hands, the G-Diffusers and wings twitched as he began to nose up.

It was so close to the deck that a hand couldn't fit between the Arwing and the steel plates. Fox took a long deep breath as he used both the flight stick and foot pedals to make adjustments so small that even Corneria's best surgeon would be given a run for his money. His head sunk back into the headrest as the pitch of the craft became parallel to the hangar door.

Taking his left hand off of the flight stick, carefully moving it up and to the left, he found the throttle controls. The white slender wings folded back further until they were completely behind the Arwing. Fox lowered it even closer to the deck, leaving a space smaller than a thimble to work with.

"Preparations complete. I think I'm ready," Fox said.

"Good luck out there, man," Slippy replied.

"Don't run into a wall while I'm gone, sound good?"

"Yeh. I'll try..."

The very moment Fox would leave the hangar, the pads wouldn't have anything magnetic to bounce off of. He had to punch to full speed to get as much air under his wings as possible. He knew this by instinct. The G-Diffusers locked into place at full recession, giving Fox that 3.5 meter profile. And that was it. Fox couldn't take it anymore.

The Arwing screamed, deafening both Fox and Slippy, as its engines bolted itself up towards the opening. Its lower two G-Diffusers hit the deck, scraping off superficial blue paint as sparks were left behind. The nose dipped down dramatically, but Fox's instincts kicked in, having him swiftly, with one smooth pull of the stick upwards, guide the nose back into place.

The top two G-Diffusers cleared the roof of the hangar, setting the Arwing loose with a jolt. Seeing a gleam of light reflect off of the Great Fox's laser barrels, Fox instantly rolled the Arwing, slipping in between the two barrels and flying straight past the bridge into the free sky.

" **WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!** " Fox celebrated as he flew, the Arwing whistling through the air triumphantly. Slippy leaned back into his chair and celebrated with the same ecstatic yell.

* * *

"Captain, I managed to get that passenger on the line for you. The connection is sketchy, but it's on their end," Osborne reported. Bill quickly walked back to the rear of the bridge and took the receiver from the comms table.

"This is Captain Gray of the Cornerian combat carrier Enterprise, whom am I speaking with currently?" he tersely asked. A static filled message replied.

"...-ill? Is that really ...-ou? It's Krystal!" came the reply. Bill smiled slightly and relaxed a bit.

"As nice as it would be to catch up, I've got a few things on my proverbial plate right now. Do you remember what happened yesterday afternoon around Fichina?" asked Bill.

"...-ah, I saw ...-what appeared to b- ...-a Cornerian looking ship-..." The signal became weaker to the point of incomprehension.

"Could you get someone over there to clear up your end? I'm getting almost nothing over here," Bill requested in a louder voice. A few moments of silence passed before a more clear voice came through.

"The connection won't hold ...-r long, but it's better than nothing," Krystal stated.

"Quickly then, why did you specify it as a freighter?"

"Because I could barely see it ...-the first place, but what I could make out was that it was too bulky to be a combat ship and ...-small to be a liner," she answered. Chief interrupted.

"Captain, we've identified the winglet debris and-," he was then, in turn, interrupted by Bill.

"Hold that thought, Chief. Krystal, I need you to give me any other descriptions you can remember."

"I can just send you the pictures I took through my telescope if that would help more. I couldn't definitively identify the ship, but ...-I do remember it had a neck-like protrusion out of one end. You-... get to see it in the pictures." Bill signaled to Harry.

"Excellent, get that to me as soon as you can."

"Sending it now. I hope it helps. Look, I've gotta go ...-I'm almost late for my class!" she said before hurriedly hanging up the receiver. Bill put down his receiver and looked up at Harry.

"I got them, sir. Four low-quality telescopic pictures," he reported.

"Send them to Chief. Chief, cross reference," Bill commanded as he briskly walked down to the tactical terminal. Chief pulled up the clearest image of the four on the small five inch screen next to the scopes. It was a three-quarter view, solid, and white blob of an outline. Krystal was right, there was a 'neck-like protrusion' on the vessel.

"Sir, if I compare this to a three-quarter view of the singular vessel the debris was matched with... look." Indeed, Bill looked intently at the two pictures side-by-side, hoping he was wrong.

"Give me the run-down, Chief," Bill quietly commanded.

"It's a Space Dynamics' starship... Dreadnought class, sir. It's classified as a 'Heavy Cruiser', but I seriously doubt that,"

"You're damn right," Bill stated aloud as he backed off and headed to the center of the bridge. "It's a glorified escort carrier. Osborne, recall all scout vessels. I guess we'll _just_ head home!" he exclaimed rather over-excitedly.

As if to make an example, he continued to speak loudly. "Harry, what kind of main propulsion does the Space Dynamics Dreadnought class starship use?"

Harry, as if off of pure memory, answered immediately. "Plasma, sir!"

"By the look of the wreckage, can we safely assume that this vessel, which was in this area, combating these two destroyers, was at least once hit in the rear propulsion, possibly causing it to leak?" He spoke as he signaled to both Harry and Chief, both of whom nodded and grinned.

"No, sir!" the bridge crew replied.

"Then without any doubt whatsoever, we would not be able to directly track this vessel to its current location, correct?" He then signaled to his helmsman, Jim.

"Yes, sir!" they replied again.

Abruptly, the two sealed hatches at the rear of the bridge opened and Cornerian marines poured in. Osborne, trained to protect his captain, drew his pistol at point blank range. Before he could shoot, he was gunned down, multiple shots to his core. The rest of the bridge crew couldn't do much as the marines had already surrounded them.

Bill turned around and looked at the armor clad men. Cornerian Admiral Stone, a man with an iconic full beard and piercing eyes, parted two marines to step forward, looking down at Bill.

"Captain Bill J. Gray, you and your senior officers are under arrest and, as of this moment, control of this ship is mine. Officers, take them to the cells," commanded Stone as his white uniform shimmered in the overhead light. The marines forcibly removed the bridge crew, Bill too stunned to put up much resistance. He could only look betrayed and glare at the Admiral as he was taken away. Medics soon reported to the bridge and carried away Osborne.

A new team of bridge crew filled in and took their posts as the Admiral triumphantly took his seat in the Captain's chair. "Comms, finish the patrol sweep and report our findings to the Fichinan government as a 'piece of goodwill'. Helm, as soon as we've finished the investigation, follow the plasma trail set by the wounded ship."


End file.
